Sibling Rivalry!
by acrobat13
Summary: What would happen if Katniss and Peeta never caused a rebellion, what if the hunger games lived on? If all of that were true then, what happens when the 4th quarter quell takes 48 kids, and puts them in an arena, forced to kill each other and lose a sibling in the process? you'll just have to read to find out! this is an open SYOT. Blog URL:: siblingrivalrytributes.
1. The Quarter Quell Annoucement

**A/N: a couple quick side notes, one, Katniss and Peeta never sparked a rebellion. President snow died soon after at 91, of old age. But his son, President Snow II was put at the head of the capitol. Also, Rue's oldest sister, Lynne, has become a mentor, winning the 85th hunger games, which she volunteered for at 18 to avenge Rue's distasteful end. Otherwise however, everything is generally the same, and Peeta and Katniss have been married happily for 13 years, and have four children, 3 boys and 1 girl, Marco- 12, Jonah-7, Aaryn- 5 and Primess- 13. You may use them in the hunger games as tributes. And Katniss and Peeta are mentors for district 12, but one can be used in another, as a new rule has been made that districts without mentors will get mentors from other districts. **

**Now for the prologue.**

It feels like I've spent an obscene amount of time in here with all these stylists. But I need to look good for this national broadcast. It's only my second year in office, after my father's unexpected heart attack. I still get the jitters with these televised things. I wasn't meant to be the next president, the role was meant for my older sister, Danielle, but she went off a 'found' herself, and left this nutcase job to me. I hate speaking in public, not to mention the stage fright that attacks me once the camera is turned my way. This job is horrible, running Panem takes something your born with- confidence! I don't have that gene. For Christ's sake, i would rather crawl in a hole than speak to the nation on live television. I don't want to! Never was much to talk anyways! I had planned to have a laid back adult life, with my husband Prezton, and get to enjoy motherhood. Though, the stylists surrounding me with the cameras filming my arrival tell otherwise. Like it or not, I have become the political figure, President White. And now, my presence for the announcement of the 4th quarter quell has been requested. I waltz up to the podium, not enjoying the piercing spotlights. And, I begin.

" The hunger games are an annual affair, but this year is different. When the original game makers created the hunger games, they wanted to find a way for the districts to honor an anniversary of sorts from the years after the rebellion. So, they made thousands of these cards, detailing the special affairs of the anniversary games. Every 25 years we honor their wishes by pulling out the next card. Each time it dictates a special theme and twist for the year. On the 25th anniversary of the hunger games, to remind the rebels of how it had been their choice to rise from their ashes, each district had to vote on the tributes for that year, the ever handsome Spark Serene, aged 18 from district one! He stayed with the traditional career pack then turned suddenly when only 1 was left, then, using brute force, he attacked the not too lucky little Maris Shawl, aged 13 from district 8, who had not made a single kill. he had ran for cover in the very beginning and waited out the other tributes in his tall tree, but Spark found him easily once he began to look. Then with the 50th anniversary, to remind the rebels of how many lives they had wasted in their futile attempts, twice as many tributes were reaped. Our victor from that year was the lovely Haymitch Abernathy, who discovered the force field set up by the capitol and used it to his advantage, luring the remaining tribute, ready to kill him, over to it. Poor Mayislee Donner threw her axe into the force field unknowingly and it shot right back at her, beheading her. both were aged 16 and from district 12, but Haymitch was the brains rather than the brawn that made it out of the arena and into his quiet home in victor's village. On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder of how nice the capital can be, but also to remind the rebels that the strongest of us had been the ones to rebel, the tributes were reaped from the preexisting pool of victors, however only one tribute was reaped. A very brutal games, Haymitch Abernathy was the luckiest amongst the victors, pulling one over on Brutus Granger district two. At 41, Haymitch Abernathy, the second quarter quell victor, and first of three lone victors in district 12, was the resounded victor. Now, on the 100th anniversary of the end to the uprising and beginning of our grand hunger games, to remind the rebels that they turned brother against brother, and father against son, the reaping bowl shall only have the names of those with siblings. And the tributes reaped will enter the arena with their next oldest or next youngest sibling with them, regardless of whether or not the sibling is in the age range, for the rebels did not pick and choose each life lost. if both siblings make it to the end, they may both be crowned victors. That is all, thank you."

I carefully step off stage, greeted by water and a soft chair. Now, I can relax, even if it isn't for long.

**A/N: this will be a SYOT, if you want to submit, just go visit my profile, which will have the application, submit via PM please. For each of the 24 spots, there needs to be the submission of the sibling along with the reaped. Please make them INTERESTING! And hope you enjoy! Also, each submitting author will receive 250 points to use to sponsor their tributes! And sponsoring of other tributes will be looked upon as a good chance of their tribute going far! I will post a list of possible items to send to tributes during the game, please be patient with the wait on new chapters, I am only human. HAPPY HUNGER GAMES, AND MAY THE ODDS BE _EVER_ IN YOUR FAVOR!**


	2. The New Age for Arenas

**A/N: sorry it's been awhile since i've posted, i got injured, and then had all this make up work from missing school for doctor's appointments. but enough about my stupid excuses. enjoy the next chapter, sorry it's a bit short. **

Head Game Maker—Ezequiel (Zeke) White 

Head Game maker is a job I never wanted. But, it was more inherited than an application process. My aunt is President White, but I'm allowed to call her Auntie Dominique. We like to tease her with the name Auntie Dom Pérignon. She isn't a fan of nicknames. For example, I am not Zeke but rather Ezequiel in her presence. Yeah, I hate the name too, but my parents were running out of ideas. I am the 15th child, dead last and easily forgotten. But that was okay growing up, Auntie used to be less uptight and more relaxed. I think its' her job that stresses her out. Not that it would surprise me. She was hoping on the idea that my mother, Danielle, would step up to take the position. Unfortunately, after I turned 18, my mom's stir-crazy personality took flight. I haven't seen her for 10 years, but it's cool, because I grew up in the posh capitol and my Auntie was there, to take my in and show my how to slip under the radar. Now she is the radar. And I am under a cutthroat rope to get this right the first time around. Because, as Head Game maker, one slip up is a death sentence. I am forced to pray on the idea that Auntie will be at least slightly lenient as it's my first year, and I am only 28, the youngest game maker yet. Even scarier however is that this year is a quarter quell. Dominique announced our final choice for the twist this evening. Siblings will enter the arena. 48 tributes for my team of game makers, along with myself to outsmart, outwit, and weed out one or maybe even two since it turns out we, the hierarchy in the capitol can be somewhat gentle. I have to laugh at it though. From the current statics in some of the poorer districts, we will have some young siblings. Turns out the baby boomers were later than in the career districts where there are majorly older kids available for reaping. But I hope it is at least an interesting quell, I don't want my head on the chopping block. That wouldn't end well. Even worse is that my favorite arena as a kid, the forest version, Aunt Dominique, says it is too overused. I have to develop the genius for a brand-new, never seen arena, fresh off the press, and closing the chapter to the first of the arenas, and begin a new chapter and era to the Hunger Games. Now is when we start planning the arena, my first meeting as head game maker, and I am the fearful one. I walk in and pray for the best.

* * *

After the meeting, Aunt Dominique stops me in the hallway, expecting a report of the beginnings of our grand arena. I put my finger to my lips and lead her into the planning room. I do not tell her, but rather, show her.

Her eyes almost jump from her eyes as she takes in our first designs. My second favorite arena as a child was the snow arena. So I have decided to have our arena revolve around the ancient stories of the tallest mountain in the world Mount Everest. Her eyes glow at the ideas we have begun. Not only the ideas for the arena, but also all of the twists we have planed make her giddy with excitement. We won't have to worry about the arena necessarily, but rather, worry about cleaning that mountain up, removing all the frozen corpses, and prepare for the most epic Hunger Games yet. With a finale on the summit of Mount Everest, some 29,000 feet in elevation, the greatest yet to come, but more importantly, the highest we will ever encounter.

**A/N: Interesting arena idea, right? like always, please comment, review, favorite, follow and submit tributes if you haven't already done so. i have decided i am going to do the reapings in random order, but i will need more tributes to post! this chapter just shows i need more tributes! Hope it was enjoyable. **

**~ love my readers, your sincere acrobat**


	3. The Beatdowns of District 4

**A/N:**** sorry it has been a while to update. From lack of full districts, I am doing the reaping in a random order. My excuses are piety, but I hope you will forgive me. Asthma does not mix well with the stomach flu or pneumonia, but somehow I caught them at the same time. Don't worry, I am fine, just spent about 10 days in bed, puking and trying really hard to breathe. I am a lot better now, and so without further excuse, I give you the DISTRICT 4 REAPING! :) Enjoy!**

Trout Stacie

Oh great, another year, another reaping. I swear it feels like these get closer and closer together each year. The horrors of a bloodbath wait in the arena. Who will suffer this year? Oh, and it's the quarter quell! Whoopee… I hate this, I've seen past quarter quell re-runs, and they are not pretty. 47 innocent children dying at the 50th. The tortures of choosing a child at the 25th. But worst of all, pitting the survivors of the arena against one another for yet another horrendous few weeks. Creating even more people to have to fix mentally. That year just looked horrid. But now, the president has already announced the quarter quell 'theme'. Instead of shell-shocked victors, it will be innocent siblings! I can hardly understand this cruel punishment. Why do we need to send 24 CHILDREN into an arena to fight to the death? As a source of entertainment? That is why I HATE these grotesque hunger games.

Although, even my protesting is of no use, it got me kicked from my dad and practically into the street for refusing to learn to fight. Bass knew better though, don't say a peep about it and just listen to father. Bass was always the methodical thinker, still is even. Though, she might be slipping up a little bit, she just started going out with Kye, and I don't know how smart that is. He's arrogant towards me, and takes her time away from our short and rare visits. Not to mention he could get her in trouble. And they already spend days together in the training center! Why cant I get more of a chance to see my sister, we were inseparable from birth? But now, I put all my efforts into carving a better life for my mom and me. I come home and immediately feel wiped out, and my sister, Bass cant even find the time anymore to visit me at my work. I don't get a choice in the matter; my mom married a rich man. But when we left, the money didn't follow. Worse yet, Dad never wanted my twin and I to know each other after me and mom left. But, luckily Bass knows what to do with dad around, and fits his greed for an aspiring victor, groomed at his discretion. I don't get why it's so important to him, it's a death match in the loony bin. Or at least that's how it seems.

My mother is a different story; she doesn't condone or undermine the hunger games. I assume my sperm donor was never the love of her life, even before he even left for the 88th games. But with Bass, and me things changed. I think he realized what he could do. Set twins of the 88th victor free in the arena, surely their genetics makes them invincible and armed to win? Who could be sick enough to think that? Of course, I've never asked mother. I don't want to dredge up bad memories. I can tell they already haunt her everyday in our quaint merchant market of fish. I think I remember her mentioning once that it had been an unwanted arranged marriage. Now I know why she was so ready to leave. No reason to kill her daughters at the hand of a madman. But she left Bass with him. Why? Such an evil man shouldn't have gotten to destroy an innocent little girl's life! But now I'm raving and still have to get ready for the dreaded reaping. It's an hour till, YIKES! Got to hurry, those forceful 'peace' keepers don't allow for tardiness.

Mariselle Scallo

I am awakened by Daen's screams. Poor kid. I rush over and stir him. The sun has just begun to rise, so father will be home soon. Better not let him get any angrier than he already is. Since mom left, he has a bubbling anger directed to Daen because father thinks Daen is the reason she left. Of course it isn't true, but the drunk has yet to figure it out. She left because of him, not her precious Daen, Adrian, Azure or me. She wouldn't have left us, if she knew he would treat her babies this way. But she had to get out. And father won't lay a hand on Adrian or Azure. I only get hit because I get in the way, trying to protect Daen.

Daen awakes, frightened and shaking. I pull him close. Squeezing him, cradling his small body in my arms. He slowly begins to cease shaking, but I know the terror is still there. Today is his first reaping, and my father will probably be rather drunk and angry when he comes home. No doubt, Daen will be hit. So I hurry to wake Adrian and Azure to alert them of my plans to hide Daen, out of sight, and thus, out of mind. Daen is usually okay with it, his yellowing bruises testifying to his unwilling spirit in contrast to my father's harsh words. Hopefully one day soon, the old man will croak, and we can finally treat Daen as a member of our family once again, rather than a secret stowaway, trying to stay away from our father's keen eyes.

I know the notion is unrealistic, but can't I at least dream? We scurry away, just as my father is stumbling around the street, and bumbling towards the house. At Murphy's house, I know Daen will be safe and secure. Out of the reach of my father's overbearing beatings. Once he is inside, I sprint home and just barely make it back before my father. With no Daen to be found, he is almost pleasant. But I doubt it will last very long.

Bass Shores

I'm awoken by the sounds of snickering, and I know Kye Lybrand, my newest flavor of the month, has come to laugh at me still asleep. I don't get how he's able to yank himself out of bed so early. Well, truth be told it's now 10 30. So not exactly early, but still. S*** it's 10 30! I leap from my bed and slip into the bathroom.

When I reappear Kye is in the room, tapping his toe and watch rather comically.

"Calm down, I just need to get my hair in some kind of order." With that, I am trying not to burst out laughing.

"Why aren't you putting on fancy clothes and make-up and all that girly stuff for the reaping? I thought it was a right of passage or something?" he snickers.

"Well, I don't know about you, or wait, I do. But I don't think my chances of being reaped are very high. I'm only in there 4 times, and there are thousands of slips. I just woke up, and we have 45 minutes till the reaping. Too little time to take a shower, too much to wait. I would rather be comfortable until I come back here. Whereas you" I pause for a second assessing his outfit-du-jour, "and your monkey-suit can have fun doing nothing and standing in the heat! So there!"

He realizes my logic, but doesn't sprint home to change. Within minutes, we are out the front door, headed for yet another reaping.

Daen Scallo

When I have to leave, to change for the reaping, Murphy is busy getting a shower. I bid farewell to Ms. Grayndler and let myself out. I anticipate my father will be still passed out, too drunk to notice me getting a quick shower and change of clothes. But that is not the case.

When I step in the door, I already know my father is not asleep. The television is turned on, and I can hear his grumbles at the contestants of his latest game show. I tiptoe up the stairs and assume I'm out of the danger zone. I am dead wrong. My father stumbles up the stairs, and into my room. Before I turn around, he is poised to punch the daylights out of me. But I'm unaware. As I turn to get a shower, my father's fist connects with my face, and I begin to bawl. It hits directly with my jaw, creating a smashing effect on my inner cheek. I can't help but break down. I assume the cowering act will get him to stop sooner, but today he isn't being generous. He repeatedly kicks me in my stomach. I feel like it will never end. But eventually, he bores and with one last punch to my aching face, he is through with me for now.

Quickly and stealthily I slip into the bathroom I share with my brother. He has long since left, so hopefully some cool water has stayed behind. I assess the damage. A banged up lip, consistent with the blood dripping from my mouth and nose, along with fresh black eye adorning the front of my face in a sickening dark shade of a color I don't recognize. It's a big mixture of appalling purples, blues and blacks. When I lift my shirt however, I can't help but gag. My torso and stomach are an even worse assortment of blues and blacks, all acquired this morning. The yellow tinges of previous blows to my stomach are hardly noticeable among the repellent sight. I hurry into the shower, and can feel steam rising off my cuts and bruises as the cold water splashes across the façade of my skin. Then, the gut-wrenching pain from my father's kicking comes back. And I become queasy. Luckily everything washes off in the shower, and I can step out, shivering in pain, but ready to get out of the house.

Straightaway out of the shower, I pack ice onto my grotesque face. I already know Murphy will question the swollen face that wasn't present on our early morning sail. I know Ms. Grayndler will give me a pitying face, all representative of the weakness I bring to her. She is the one that nurses my unsightly wounds back to health, and hides them for me when they are too deep to heal steadfast. She keeps me from falling into the cracks of the system, and from going to the community home for troubled young men. If a peacekeeper catches sight of my wretched flaws brought on by my maniac of a father, I will be ripped away from Mariselle, Adrian and even the pain in the butt Azure. My father's anger will never subside, but I cannot think of it. I have a short 20 minutes to get signed in for the reaping. I slip into Adrian's slightly oversized old dress shoes. And I check the mirror. My lovely sapphire eyes bring out the soft blue cotton button down I put on. It's the only shirt of Adrian's that will undoubtedly hide my black and blue stomach. I am forced to wear these long pants and long shirts due to the wounds covering my body. All over I am a walking set of contusions. With one swoop of the comb through my divine light blond hair, I am off to the reaping.

Trout Stacie

Entering the kitchen, my mother gives off a slight gasp, so excited to see me wearing her favorite white, down feathered dress. She then insists I allow her to apply a small layer of blush and plays with the tips of my wavy hair, which is down for once. She has never been so happy. I see her radiant smile just grow bigger by the second. I slip on my white flats, and allow for a photo before I begin the trek to the town square.

My mother actually had a glint of life spark her eyes when I showed up with the white dress from her teen years. I guess she had some good memories. That or she was extremely happy to see me look so magnificent for something I hate. Either way, it felt good to see her eyes sparkle once again. We take the short route to the square, but I know she wishes we didn't have to go. It will tear her up inside when Bass attempts to volunteer at 18. We know it's coming, but I think my mom is hoping she'll change her mind. And realize what I knew at five, our sperm donor couldn't win every time.

At the square, I go directly to Bass in the 16 year old section, and I see Mariselle Scallo standing towards the back of the 14s, next to me. I wave her to the rope and she walks over. I ask how Daen is doing. I know their father beats him senseless on a regular basis. Deprived kid, never gets a break in life. But the drunk can never let up on him. I pray for the safety of her and her siblings along with Bass and my safety on a regular basis. They are a sort of a town cause. The mother left when Daen was a mere 6. He has never known anything but beatings. He used to constantly show up at my mother's fish market when we were younger, trying to get anyone to feed him, for his father would deny food for days at a time from him. I remember his father's drunken stupor as he crossed town on the way home. He always managed to fall on himself and make even more trouble than he was worth. Peacekeepers in our quaint fishing village have grown to ignore him. But in the next town over and the center of our quaint suburb inside district 4, there is, about 5 minutes from the cheap pub on the outskirts of town, true peacekeepers. I think Daen learned early on after his mother left to not wander over there. If he did, he was bound to be discovered by the peacekeepers as an orphan. He has a father, but back then, he would've been better off an orphan instead of belonging to Mr. Scallo's tortuous mind.

"Well, we got him from the house before father came home, but I don't know what happened when he went home to change. I am worried, it's 5 minutes till, and he has yet to show up. I hope my father was too drunk to see him." Mariselle states, a weary expression across her face.

Just then, I see Daen walk in towards the 12 year old section; his head is down, indicating a beating. Hopefully I am wrong, but the look in his right eye says otherwise. I turn my attention to the mayor and escort approaching the stage, and slip back to Bass.

Mariselle Scallo

I pray Daen didn't get in a fight with our father, but I know I am dead wrong when he finally steps in to the square. He is in a cowering stance as a peacekeeper leads him to the 12-year-old section. He stands near the back, avoiding everyone but Murphy Grayndler. And even with Murphy at his side, he stares at the ground. I can't help but pray I am dead wrong. I see Adrian slip up to towards the 12 year olds and whisper into Daen's ear. He finally lifts his head, but only enough for me to see he is brandishing a fresh black eye, and a swollen face. I already know father must've hit him. But now, I look up as our escort Marilyn steps to the mike.

Bass Shores

In the square, I have a severe distaste for the voice of our lovely! Capitol escort. Every year Marilyn finds a way to make her outfit even more outrageous! It's horrific. This year she choose to annihilate our senses with an Electric neon green get-up. Extreme high-heels, like it's a sport or something, I bet they are at least 10 inches. She garnishes an even brighter shade on her tube top dress. To finish the look is a coiled mob of neon green streaked hair. It provides waves of nausea to the prospective tributes. I just don't get the capitol fashions I conjecture.

She begins in a high-pitched voice, but I almost immediately tune her out. No point in listening to the unchanged speech I've heard since I understood the hunger games. I see Kye looking at me with longing, ready to get out of here. He has trained, but still despises the reaping of innocent little kids. The years when there were no volunteers to take the place, you could see his heart breaking. Sometimes I'd seen him almost volunteer, wanting to save the little kid's life. But it seemed there was always a boy ready to take their place. It was the girls that weren't popular for volunteers. And he couldn't save the little girls, crying on the stage out of fear. But, I turn to my sister a few steps to my left, and she looks just as heart broken. A flash of neon green begins to cross the stage, and I assume it's time for the girls drawing. I prepare myself for the worst, a 12 year old being drawn. But instead I hear her voice, "Our lucky lady for this year shall be," her hand digs into the bowl, reaching further, trying to select the 'lucky little lady'. Her hand has found one it likes, and she walks back to the microphone. Ripping the slip open, she begins, "Trout Stacie! Well, don't be shy, come on up!"

Trout Stacie

NO! All those years estranged from my father, just to have to go anyway? I slowly begin to walk up to the stage. But my mind is so much farther down the road; I can't comprehend my weeks to come! This is plain torture! Walking my last up to the stage. Once there, Marilyn provides the regulatory congratulations, and asks for volunteers. But I already know no one will do it. It's a quell year, and worst yet the majority of careers either a) don't have siblings or b) have very young siblings. Bass begins to walk steadily up to the stage. I can't help but search for my mother. Once I find her, I see her blubbering and crumpling to the ground. I wish I could change things, but no one wants to take Bass and my place.

Marilyn asks innocently enough, "And what is your name my dear?"

"Bass Shores, I'm her twin," Bass gives as if to clarify were sisters.

"Well, that's abnormal, why different last names?"

"Trout went with my mom in the divorce, I stayed behind with my dad."

"Well, welcome Ladies! And now, for the boys."

I don't hear the names of our fellow tributes; I'm too speechless to care. And then, a few hours later, we are on our way to the capitol where people, will cheer at our early demise, like it's okay to kill some scrawny teenagers for entertainment.

Daen Scallo

I feel bad for those girls. I know they never see each other, from my previous trips to Trout's little mother-daughter fish market. When I was younger, I could she the longing in Trout's eyes, for her little sister to return safe to her arms. I remember when I was probably 7, after this really bad beating from father, I remember her giving me ice, and soothingly rubbing my back, trying to soften my cries. Slowly I had calmed enough for her calming words to sink in. she kept whispering I am special, that I would be better than my father, but more importantly, that I would find a way out of his clutches. She was the first to believe in me. I can't help but allow a tear slip from my eye, because now her sister, and herself have been given a death sentence. But Marilyn waltzes across the stage to the 'boys' ball. And I must struggle to focus as she digs around and pulls the lucky slip. And she steps back up the microphone. I feel an involuntary shiver run up my spine as she says, "Oh boy, how do I pronounce this name? Is it Dean Scallops?"

I step up to the stage a say very clearly, "It's Da-ne Scale-o." As if she's never thought Daen Scallo could be a name. She politely thanks me and asks for my sibling to step up as well. I feel bad when Mariselle has taken a place beside me. Why not Adrian or Azure? Because they are 13, and now, my savior shall step into the arena with me, to fight to the death, alongside the sweet girl from the fish market, who has fed me when my father has with held food. And a vicious career shall tag along too. I gulp as we exit to our inevitable doom.


	4. The Sickly Feelings in District 1

**A/N: yes, I know this chapter is somewhat short, but I feel it suits these quiet characters well, and I wanted to get another reaping done for all my faithful readers. I hope you like them, because I found the irony of their situations very unique from the usual district one-career tributes. So sorry about the shortness, but here is the District #1 Reaping.**

**(oh yeah, almost forgot, the blog is completed, and will be updated as more tributes are added to the story. Let me know if you cannot find it, but it should be found at the url-**** .com)**

Crusten 'Crust' Riley

_I run down the street, evading the flames that lick at my toes. I feel like I'm going to pass out, but I keep running, trying to evade the flames. I come to a corner, and the flames have stopped, but that is when I drop into a pit. I am flying through some blackness before; I am dumped outside a red-bricked building. It is now pouring rain, wiping away any chance of my burning alive. Instead, now the rain is beginning to flood the streets, and the level is at my knees. I bang on the door, praying that someone is home. That someone can save me from the increasingly heightening water. I scream even louder, thrust my fists even harder. Finally, the lights inside are thrust on. But the water has now moved several inches up, just past my belly button. I shiver in discontent, and continue banging, hoping it will hurry this person along. Darkness hits again now, I know I'm dead. There would be no way for me to survive that high rising water. But yet, I am thrust into yet another place. I recognize it as the training academy. I am then pushed into a fight with another boy, about my age I guess. We battle long and hard, I am panting as he pins me down. Right as he plants the sure fire death punch,_ I awake, screaming from the sheer terror.

I immediately bolt upright in the bed. Sweat dripping from my forehead has made a puddle on my pillow. That is when I realize; I have bitten through my cheek again. In agony, I stumble to the bathroom, and flip on the lights. Bad move however, because now I can't see worth s***. Once my eyes finally adjust, I see I have done more than simply bitten my lip, because my forehead, of which I thought had sweat dripping down, turns out to be a large gash across my hairline, leaked blood down and trickling onto my shoulder blades. I can't help but shudder from the sheer amount of gore. But that just so happens to be, when I pass out from the loss of blood.

Leia Cae Kent

When I awake, I know that something is wrong with Annie, because I hear a doctor bustling quietly through our shared bedroom door. I immediately sit up, to see Annie shaking, and shivering. Oh no, not another fever. I swear she gets worse as the weeks bear on. When we moved here, to Panem, we prayed the advanced treatments would help to cure her. We were wrong though. They seem to have only made her worse. On her most recent scans, she lit up like a light bulb, which basically means she is more cancer than herself. I hate this nasty disease that has plagued her since we were young. I remember how this world of medically driven existence came into our lives. When she was three, a simple nosebleed gone bad, allowed us to find out my baby sister has leukemia. We had originally thought soon after, she had achieved remission, a looming light in the distance. An idea that she would be okay, but unfortunately, that news turned faulty rather fast. Now, we pray her days will come easier. As burdening as it is for her to be with us, we don't necessarily pray that she leaves. It would be too heart breaking to lose her. But yet, we know that trying to keep her here, is tearing her to shreds. We know she won't be able to hold out much longer. And, of all days for my sister to fall ill, it has to be a day when we are unable to stay with her. The reaping has come once again, and we are forced to leave her bedside. The peacekeepers are kind however, allowing for her to stay in bed, rather than trek outside into the town square. I pull myself this sparkly outfit. A plain black trouser and a black leather jacket perfectly accent my sparkly red blouse, which compliments my straightened long blond hair quite well. Once I step into the kitchen, I see Ella Mae and Lucy Rae are complimenting each other with two gorgeous red sundresses. Ella Mae's has a black sash across her waist with black polka dots plastered all throughout the red. Lucy Rae's is the same but with white instead of black. I can't help but laugh as they skip in circles out back. It's always great when they are having fun, because it lightens my own heart. And that's what I need today, as Annie Jae is sick yet again.

Rye Kuna

Crusten had to go and crack his head open this morning. Of all days, it's the reaping and we had to go to the ER. He is f***in 21 for Pete's sake. How come a 21 year old injuries himself in his sleep? That just is beyond my reach. I guess I just cannot understand a 21 year old. He better thank me for finding him passed out, if I hadn't found him when I did, he'd be dead. He's lost so much freaking blood, it's amazing the dude's alive. Our bathroom had a sheer plastering of blood, pooling on the ground. It was so sickening that I almost puked on him; I aimed for the sink instead.

Mr. Baric (yes that's what I call my adoptive dad) came out and told us to go home and get ready for the reaping. I take Pepper by the hand and swing her onto my back. I love the way she giggles at that, it's one of few things that make me smile. Once I'm at home, I let Hallah dress Pepper for me while I go change. I know these days, when someone in our patchwork family may be reaped, are rather hard on Baric and Wendy. Luckily, there is just one more for Barley, and two for Hallah, then there's me, I have 4 more after today. But Pepper, if she lives long enough, will have 7 dreaded reapings to put Ms. Wendy through. Unfortunately, and I know this way of thinking shouldn't be done, but it is- I'm slightly grateful, that it appears Pepper won't live long enough for the reaping. I feel horrible for this thinking, but I already know it to be true in my heart. Her cancer has grown to stage 4S, which is not commonly cured. I already, actually, we already know that Pepper will die. The only question for us is when. But I can't dote on that fact now, so I pull on some plain grey trousers. I look at myself in the mirror, and I already can see that my life was and is destined for sadness, for Christ's sake, Pepper was born sick. I can't help but punch the mirror in. I let tears roll out, and I just keep banging my fits into the mirror, I let out a garble cry, and then Baric is at my side. He lets me cry into his shirt, it makes a mess. But after about twenty minutes or so, I have cried all I can. I pull back from Baric's shirt, and have to wipe my nose. He asks what's wrong, but I can't bear to think about it. I pull on my simple grey polo. It feels a bit tight, but I think it's my breathing. I already know that either Hallah or me will have to volunteer, and that I'm going to volunteer, because I want the chance to kill Crust.

Ella Mae Kent

I love this little red dress, it used to be Annie's, but mama gave it to me as a special gift for today. But I haven't quite figured out why today is so special. But I don't et it faze me. My sister- Lucy Rae and me, we are racing to town, it's silly though because she never beats me. I wish Leia Cae would race with us, but I think she's what mama calls depressed. I don't know why though, it's supposed to be a holiday today. We get to wear fancy clothes, and everyone goes to the big town- LA in the middle of District 1. We live in what Leia Cae calls a suburb of the big city-LA. I think she means neighborhood, but I don't really know, I'm only eight. So I end up beating Lucy Rae to the square, which I knew I would. But I'm going so fast, that I bump into this sad looking boy. I don't know why he is sad, but he is. And when I say hi, he just stares lankly into the distance. How rude is what I want to say, but mama has taught me better, so I skip over to my family. For some reason, Ella says good-bye and goes to stand next to the sad boy in a line. I ignore it, but turn to Lucy Rae for a game of patty-cake. I wonder what holiday this is.

Crusten 'Crust' Riley

Eventually the hot ER nurse finishes stitching me up, and I am released. Apparently in my nightmare, I managed to get a concussion and lose a lot of blood, but even more surprising is that Kye is the boy that saved my life this morning. I can't figure why though. He or Hallah will have to volunteer today. It's the only way for me to pay my debt to the academy. And so why he was nice, is beyond me. However, Wendy has brought my reaping outfit to the hospital, because we have to go straight to the town square in LA, which is an hour from here. So I 'borrow' the nurse's locker room thing, and grab a cool shower, I have a lot of blood to get off to look presentable. About 15 minutes later, I am in my gorgeous suit, and Wendy and I have left for the square, hopefully we will be on time.

Leia Cae Kent

At the square, I stand in the 18 sections. All the girls are so nicely dressed, and I feel out of place. It looks like a less obscene capitol corner to me, but I guess it's because almost always, and 18 gets picked. I guess they want to look good or whatever. I inch my way towards Ally who's standing off to the side. I guess she feels just as out of place as I do. Luckily we feel right at home wit each and lunch directly into conversation, I feel relief wash over my nerves as we discuss the impending reaping. Ally tells me not to fret, that there will no doubt be careers dying to take the place of tribute. But I don't feel that happy about it. I worry because I don't know, maybe not. Just as that thought comes across, our Mayor takes the stage. I've sort of forgotten his name, but that is okay because of what happens when Mr. Quickly, the escort steps up to his place at the mic.

He comments on how, we, district one, are always the most cheerful of all the districts during this annual holiday. He then thanks the mayor, who he clearly doesn't know the name of. The crowd bursts into laughter when he settles with Mr. Mayor I can't remember the name of. He decides to make a change, and starts with the boys. I turn in that direction and wait for some boy's doom to be revealed.

Rye Kuna

When Mr. Quickly calls the young man's name up to the stage, I don't hear anything but my heartbeat. I see it's a scrawny kid that wouldn't last five seconds in the arena. I hesitate for a second, but when I catch a glimpse of Crust, my doubts are resolved. My hand shoots up without permission, and I begin a slow jog up to the stage. Quickly thanks me for my brave volunteering move, and asks for my sibling. I immediately give Crust what I call the 'death stare' until he finally, steps up to his place beside me. Crust appears strong and sturdy next to me, but I don't let it get to me. I puff my chest out, and try to give the other tributes something to remember. And I get the perfect chance when the girl tribute, Leia Cae Kent, steps up to the stage, and not a single girl steps up to take her place. I can see she is shaking slightly, trying not to crack under the pressure, but yet, I know she won't last much longer. A little girl, no more than 7 or 8 years old, comes up to the stage, and grasps onto her crumbling sister. Boldly, I take hold of Crust's hand, and that little girl's, who takes hold of her sister's, and we lift our hands up, as if in triumph. After the roar of applause I have created dies down, each girl gives a small curtsey and, Crust and I take our own bows. With that, we turn around on our heels and march into the justice building. As the doors shut, the girls breakdown, and I already know these next few weeks, will be Hell.


	5. The Young Lives of District 11

**A/N: i dont really have anything to announce, but please continue to review, follow, and espically submit tributes! i can't write a SYOT without the tributes! hope you like district 11, they are different, and i was experimenting with a different writing style, hope you like it. **

Glade Marcos Rean

Life is just a scenario for most. My life however, is God screwing around. I used to believe I was lucky, born to a family that loves me. Treated with care, I grew soft, and that's when everything turned upside down. Shortly after we celebrated Veldt's second birthday things began to get bad. That was about the time Whittaker began working full time at the orchard. And that was when food shortages were getting bad. I had to take tesserae for everyone. A peacekeeper friend let me take it two years early, but for triple the slips once I turned twelve. Which is the reason we almost made it. I mean we were literally scrounging the streets for food. But we still had happiness, or at least that is until the fall of 2998.

One day, close to winter, we were scrounging in the fields. But the harvest took all of the roots. Whip and me, we went home, but Bryony and Blair, they decided they would find something. But that gave me a foreboding shiver, I now wish I had said something. Because, now I know what happened after that. But then, I thought nothing of the cold feeling crossing down my spine. I don't know exactly what happened, but I do know, that night, I lost Blair. 5 days later, was Blair and Bryony's birthday, we never celebrated. And Blair never saw her 19th birthday. Blair never got married, and I don't think Clyde has ever gotten over the loss of her pure soul. Blair has never met the little twins. Bryony was still a twin, but there was a void. And nothing has been able to fill it since. That next summer, Blair's wedding day came, but we didn't celebrate, we cried instead. That summer, it only made things worse. We tried to work as hard as we could, but it was of no use, Whip and Mother and Bryony worked 14-hour days. Yet we still only barely made it by. That was about the time, when we thought things could only get better. We were wrong though. God just dumped even more on us.

Mother and Whip went to the orchard one day; they just didn't come home again. The record heat sparked a forest fire. The orchard burned, and my mother and Whip, were reduced to ashes. And the barely year old twins, were left motherless. After all the losses, Bryony fell into a depression. She barely moved for a few months. That unfortunately led us to this past fall, when a peacekeeper murdered Bryony, claiming she would never be of use to society with her grieving the way she was. Once the life left her body, he spat on her, and I almost lost it. I was finally twelve right before it all happened. And then, I was left the oldest of my siblings.

This past winter, it seems we hit rock bottom. Veldt and I had caught the flu, but father stayed vigil at our sides, and slowly, but surely, we both became strong once again. But after father being around sickness for so long, he ended up catching our pneumonia, only he wasn't as lucky as us. This winter past, I became the head of our house, and we were forced to have our grandparents, suffering from senile and dementia, move in, to 'take care of us'. After winter ended, spring came, and I had to quit school. Rather than learn of the world through books and demonstrations, I took up 3 jobs. And with my three meager jobs- one 4 hour shift in the fields, a 4 hour shift at the orchard and a 4 hour shift with the tesserae distribution office, I became worked to the bone rather fast. But it never stopped my learning, my best friend- Laurel Dracovius, she'd come to the fields with me and teach me about history, and science and math, and kept me up to date with everything I missed being a working boy instead of a student like I should be. I really like Laurel.

Claire Wolfe

When Pa moved us from district 10, to this dumpy place in 11, I didn't complain. When Pa decided we would be better off living in this vast expanse of country, rather than the big city of St Louis, I didn't complain. When Pa decided we would be more cultured at a public school, rather than a private, I didn't complain. When Pa decided to punish Clarisse for standing up for, I didn't complain. But all these complaints have been rattling around in my head, and I feel as if I need to do something to let out a scream. That's why, when Pa suggested I start dating this boy Farro, whose one of my closest friends, I drew the line there. I told him it was my life, and I didn't need him running it anymore. I told him of how Clarisse had been brash at school, because some young hooligans, not knowing any better, gave me this big spiel about how I shouldn't be worshipping nothing, cause it's devil worship. I guess she couldn't see me, her younger half by three minutes and forty three seconds, being brutalized for my beliefs, and what I thought the universe was about and all that. I am so happy se did, because I had gotten pretty darn sick of their rude and out of place comments. I miss my friends in 10, which never told me off about what I thought, but rather accepted me for me. Yet, we couldn't pack them up like the rest of our things.

Today, I am actually a bit excited, because it's the reaping, and I love to see the pretty outfits fresh off the train from the capitol. More importantly however, I feel it's the only constant from district 10. Everything else is just too different. But I love the chance to pretend to be capitolian society for a day. To dress, in my new golden sundress Pa brought back from district 8 on a business. We never got new dresses fresh from 8 when we lived in 10. Now, I guess there are some benefits of our Pa being head peacekeeper here in 11. There are diffidently more perks, which I would hope so, considering we were forced out here to this crumbling district. I see Clarisse took the same initiative as me, and wore her pretty brown sundress, the one with the orange buttons. I love the way her sandy hair falls in waves over her shoulders and onto her back. Mine, is majorly straight, with small tight curls at the ends. It's a beautiful sight, her and I, we are identical in almost every way, and I really like that. Pa is back, and we are headed to the reaping.

Veldt Rean

When I get bigger, I wanna do all the things that Glade gets to do. I wanna go stand tall in my nice clothes in those line things. I asked Glade if I could go with him, but he wouldn't let me, left me behind with grandfather and said to behave myself. I learned that word- behave, last week. And I am real proud of myself, because I figured it out on my own. So instead of going with my cool big brother in the lines, I'm stuck here, holding Jaxx and Daxx's hands so they won't try and run around and not behave theirselfs. I thin it's real important to Glade, whatever today is about, cause when he left, he had a tear dropping from his eye, behind his glasses. I don't like it when he cries, cause it makes me want to cry too. But I cant hear myself think cause the mayor and this funny looking lady- Ms. Lizabeth step up to the microphone and start talking a bunch. When they finish with all the words I don't understand, I hear them call Glade's name, and I know something is up, cause he still has that tear in his eye when he is on the stage. The next thing I know though, these big guys in white, I think Glade calls them peacekeepers, they come over and ask for Glade's family, I walk right up to the man and ask what he wants. When he asks for Glade's brother or sister, I know it's my time to go on the stage. I calmly allow this burly man to carry me up to the stage, and place me on the ground, next to Glade. The lady, Ms. Lizabeth shoves her microphone in my face. I don't dare ask questions, cause that is considered disrespectful to not allow he adult to speak first, Glade taught me that when he first let me come to town with him. It was my fourth birthday, not too long ago actually. And it felt like spring, but it was really fall, as Glade corrected me. He told me not to talk to no one that doesn't greet me first. He said that's a manners rule, the older person starts the conversation, cause it's polite that way. I never got around to why that was that way, but I knew better I guess.

Ms. Lizabeth asks me to say my name and my age into the microphone, so I speak up, making sure I'm not rude and everyone can clearly hear me. I say, " I am Veldt Nolan Rean, and I just turned 4 years old." I lean back from the microphone and give a bow, as I've seen some of the nicer men do when meeting a young lady. I already know it's the polite thing to do, but I didn't expect the crowd reaction. The girls and awing with their eyes all big and teary. The lady, Ms. Lizabeth, asks me if I have any other siblings that could take my place, I give her a quick shake of my head and say into the microphone, "the only other family I have is my baby brothers- Jaxx and Daxx, I think you want to know if I have older brothers and sisters though, I did, at one time. I had two big sisters and a big brother along with Glade here, but Grandfather explained to me that they are in heaven now, I don't know where that is, but I wish they'd come home already and bring Mommy and Daddy with them, cause I miss them all a lot." With that, I've started a crying chain, but I simply step back to Glade who pulls me into a hug, holding me tighter than I would like, but neither of us cry like the others, we just stand back, and wait to leave. I don't know what's going on, but I don't ask, after all, that wouldn't be the polite thing to do.

Clarisse Wolfe

After that adorable little boy stops talking, I can't help but feel angry. He doesn't even know what's to come, but he does know a lot for not being in school yet. I see Pa, standing to the side, trying to control the crowds here in St Louis square. I squeeze Claire's hand tight into mine, not letting go, for fear of loosing her to the sobs that escape her mouth. I don't know why she is crying so hard for these two very young boys, but then I realize what is going on. I see the tears pouring from my Pa's eyes, trying hard not to break under the pressure. I see Ma's uncontrollable convulsive sobs, pulling her under, and then I hear what connects everything to pieces. Claire Wolfe, come on up sweetheart. I only wish I had my voice, somehow, it got lost under the deep feelings I want to vomit onto the capitol. But, I let Claire cry silently on my shoulder as I release silent cries onto hers. I take her in closer, and walk up to the stage, carefully taking each step we stand to face the crowd. I lift my sister's chin up, for one quick photo, before we are rushed to a train, headed for death.


	6. The Career Attitude in District 2

**A/N: i hope you enjoy, and FYI, i am trying to make this SYOT a little bit more interactive than others, by letting the tributes pick if and/or who they want for allies and possibly have a small ****romance. i hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a bit different. **

Jordan Karlsson

I know this is the year I am meant to volunteer, it's perfect. The quarter quell is a great opportunity. Not to mention, that the twist involves taking my brother with me, so I already know that I'm a shoe-in for the win. I can trick that career pack into protecting me, and then my brother will never betray me. These games will be easy pickings, and I already know, the crown will be mine. Grandfather has trained us so well along with traditional academy training. Better yet, I'm one of the few with a sibling on the list of possible volunteers this year. The best of the 18s, they don't have strong siblings, or siblings at all even. I already have snuck a peek at the list, and I'm one of their top choices, I know I will be going this year, I just have to. I've already taken the liberty of frightening the competition among the volunteers. They fear me too much to even try to take my rightful place as the quell victor of District 2. I know I will take the crown, and I will show my family proud, that's why, my reaping outfit this morning needs to be perfect. If it doesn't show my confidence and inflict fear in my fellow tributes, it is not good enough. I haven't told anyone of my volunteering plans, my mother would break down crying, and I just don't care to deal with that today. I know father will beam proud, but what about grandfather? I presume he will be mentoring Hendrix and I. Will he be forced into mentoring the others as well? I hope not, no need for him to get attached to whom I'm going to inevitably kill. But I know that Grandfather is one of the great mentors, and everyone will want him. Oh well, I have finally decided on a partial suit, with a deep red tie that appears to be glowing. My pants and shirt match in black, but I leave the dress shirt untucked, and the top button undone. I have to appear not geeky but rather as a scary, overpowering form that doesn't care. This will be perfect. Now I just have to spend the next two hours calming my nerves and maybe even some time caring about my Mohawk being in some sort of shape. I cannot contain the excitement that won't leave.

Glaze Lane

At breakfast, I can't help but loathe mom's boyfriend. The snob on his face is way too large, and the yellow teeth in his smile are crooked. The dude can't seem to take care of himself. I love little Bight, which was only made possible by this creep, but I still don't like him. He has no manners, and the fact he has my mom pampering him to his every whim is just wrong. The man is 46 or something; he should be able to do his own crap. The dude can't even run a comb through his hair, keep a steady job or even floss his grotesque teeth. I cannot wait to tell him off this morning, but Fire's manly presence stops me in my tracks. He is dressed in this soft blue dress shirt and some tan trousers, but that's not what caught me off guard. I recognize the shirt and trousers as our dad's. I remember the last time I saw those, it was the day he died. It was the day that my dad went to work for his last time, he couldn't decide what to wear, so he laid two outfits out and had us pick one. In the end, he choose the second one, but he almost wore those tan trousers and the soft cotton blue shirt. I can't believe we still had it, I thought mom threw his stuff out years ago. But I guess we all have a Skelton or two in our closet.

I can't help but pull him into a hug, and let three small tears fall where Fire's heart is. I release me grip, and we eat silently, waiting to leave for Fire's last reaping.

Hendrix Karlsson

I'm way to comfortable right now with Lily, but yet, I need air. I can feel my lungs burning in agony, but I don't let up, that is, until my lungs can't take it anymore. I sneakily and slowly pull away from Lily's sweet lips. She sounds like she needed air just as bad, so I can't help but stifle a laugh. We could easily stay here forever like this. With her in my arms, I feel so safe, and I know she feels the same. When I came to see her at the academy, she just showed the biggest smile. I love it when I can make her smile, because I know it's genuine. And that's what I love about her, that she can be so beautiful and genuine at the same time.

My breathing is so ragged I feel like I'm suffocating. I have no choice, but to pull at my tie, clawing the ball that I can't seem to loosen. Lily giggles but loosens it for me. I feel a slight embarrassment wash over my already flushed cheeks, but I let it go. Once I have caught my breath once again, I pull the goldenrod tie back into place. It's scorching hot in the black long-sleeved suit attire, but I hope to shed it soon enough after the reaping finishes. I pull Lily off the bench and up to her feet. With that, we start towards the square for the reaping.

Fire Lane

In the square, we have the longest speech ever, or at least in my opinion, from our escort- Ms. Lila Holliman. That lady gives me the creeps, but I don't really care, I just ignore it. I heard it every day at the academy, a sort of pledge of allegiance to the games. We heard all sorts of versions of it in history. And it was always a portion on the exams at the academy. I swear, I can say it forwards, backwards, and possibly in another language- if there was one. I've come to accept my destiny as involving some form of violence. Dad was a peacekeeper-training instructor, that was, I mean before died. One of those idiots thought the safety was on, but it wasn't. I don't know that I can handle becoming a peacekeeper like my father, but that's my pre-destined career. I realize right now that her speech is wrapping up, and so I regain focus.

She has already dug deep into the boys bowl, and pulled a slip, but before the name can be spoken, this boy I recognize from the academy, steps up to volunteer. It's easy to find his sibling, because he has gone blank, with a 3-foot radius of separation between him and the other 15-year olds. I can't help but wonder whose name had been pulled, but I put it to the back of my head, and listen for the girl's name.

And I cringe at the name rolled across Lila's tongue. Glaze Lane. She has frozen for a moment, so I quietly walk forward, and she begins to walk with me, together we step onto the stage, and together we accept our fate.


	7. The Farm Work in District 10

**A/N: the link for the blog had to be reissued, so now it is- siblingrivalrytributes/blogspot/com except the /s are .s of course. hope you enjoy the District 10 Reaping.**

Colleen Reyna

I am awakened to Dustin trying to find a bowl. As I walk down the stairs, I see that he has managed to wake no one until now. But then again, Austin, Emmy and mother have always been heavy sleepers. Which is a good thing this morning, as I see Dustin has attempted another breakfast that has turned to a fiasco. I can't help but laugh. We always have told him if he needs something to wake us up, but he ignored that once again this morning. He has managed to climb onto the kitchen counter and open the cereal cabinet. I see he has somehow clambered up the fridge to pull the milk off the top shelf. And rummaged through the fruits drawer and pulled out several oranges. Luckily, this is all he's succeeded in doing, because next he would be looking for the knives to slice his precious oranges, a small obsession of his. As I quietly make my way to where he is, I see in pouring milk, he has made a trail with half of the originally full jug. I can't help but let a smile creep across my face. I see him probing the lower cabinets for the bowls I presume. I cautiously stalk up behind him, and pull him into a big hug. He turns around in a flash and asks for help, which is a rarity.

"What are you trying to do exactly?" I ask with a slight grin.

"I wanted to make breakfast for ever' body. I heard y'all talking last night and I wanted to make ya feel better. What's a reapin'?" the innocence on his face breaks my heart. He has never known what it meant. We have always avoiding talking about it with him. Now his curiosity makes my heart shatter to a million pieces. But I go ahead and change the subject.

"Well, I guess if ya wana make breakfast for us all your gonna need me! Let's clean up first though. Alrighty?"

"Okie dokie artichokie, I'll go get cha the mop!"

I can't help but look at him with such agony. But I'd made a promise to Pa to not let him know about those reapings until he was 10. Enough time to prepare him but not have to grow up knowing the evils of the world. I resolve to keep the promise just like Austin and Emmy keep it. It was Pa's last dying wish before he left this world for another. Dusty was just two when Pa got sick. Those peacekeeping bastards brutalized him, claiming he was taking a couple of newborn calves and selling them, not telling the capitol, making a little extra on the side even. But he wasn't. He just got good prices for his prized cattle, because we took such good care of them. Making sure each got feed, and exercise, making their life like it should be. But those damned peacekeepers didn't believe us. And with a severe whipping consistent of 50 lashes, he went out cold. But still felt every last stroke of that whip. That wasn't what killed him; it was the infection that got in through those lashes' marks. Poor Pa took five days before the infections overtook him. Dusty has never really known Pa, and we know he has so many questions. But, he's just too young to understand.

Dusty is back with the mop and bucket, ready to help. I begin to wash the floor with steady strokes, while I ask Dusty to collect a few ingredients. I tell him to put the cereal back up, cause were going to make a special occasion hot breakfast. I tell him to get out the eggs, and carefully put them on the counter, then the Emmy's pre-made bread-dough and the skillet. I put some dough into the oven and the floor begins to dry. I ask Dusty to be my mixer and he is ready to help. I throw in Pa's recipes for eggs a la mode, which are basically eggs, spices and other things. He stirs away while I begin to heat the stove and cut oranges for Dusty. I never understood his obsession with those bright orange-colored fruits.

Whyle Derkster

The morning chores go by fast than normal, and I am not a fan of it. All it means is the reaping is getting closer. I am shocked that Bilbo and Frodo are not outside yet, begging for food. I love Nico's little brothers' attitudes, even if they are a pain in the butt. They are our pain in the butt. I look over to the house, it's pretty small but it's enough for our mishmash family of 5. We aren't rich, but we can scrape by, which is all we ask for.

When the chores have been completed, I see why Bilbo and Frodo haven't bothered us this morning. They are behind the barn, and it looks like they are trying to capture the cat. We only keep her around cause Serena begged me, and she's good at catching the mice. She has to earn her keep after all. But the boys, appear to be attacking the poor cat. I run over, and sneak behind them, making certain they haven't heard my stealthily foot steps. Silently I slip my hand over each of their mouths and spin them around. They scream in terror at first, but then begin to laugh hysterically. I rub their heads and tell them to go clean up, I rub the cat's head, and take off to the house.

Dustin 'Dusty' Reyna

I cannot understand why I have to dress nice today. It isn't a holiday, Austin and Ma and Emmy and even Colleen aren't happy. And that's what a holiday's about, they are happy and it's a lot of fun. But today I do have to dress up. Austin is making me put on these annoying light blue shorts, that I don't like. I prefer my jeans, cause I can wear those in the barn. Ma is picky about that kind of stuff I have to wear jeans to go riding, no matter the weather. But Austin made me but this blue jacket on then put this thing he called a cravat around my neck. I asked him why I had to dress up like this and he only had a tear come out his eye, so I was quiet from then on. He has to wear a suit thingy, so I guess it could be worse. Downstairs I run into Colleen's arms.

"Lena, you look so pretty, and your flowers are the color of my shorts! We match!" I see she and Emmy are wearing similar white dresses, but they aren't quite white. And they aren't long like they would be when's cold or a wedding, they stop at their knees, and I add, "Emmy your pretty too! But we don't match like me and Lena, you have red flowers, how come?"

"Cause Dusty, me and Lena don't need to match. And we are all three wearing flowers. See, your belt has some dark blue and white flowers."

"You're right! Where's Ma?" but just then I see her come out o' her room and she looks really pretty. She's got a soft red shirt tucked into her white skirt. And she's got red flowers like Emmy. Only Austin doesn't have a match.

"We need to go to the square now Dusty, then we'll come back and I'll take you out riding, alright?"

The look in his eyes is what gets me to agree.

Serena Derkster

We are waiting in the square. Mr. Archer is already on the stage wearing a bored look. But then Peeta Mellark, our district's new mentor, since Benny Reynaldo died last year. I can see a look of happiness, or almost happiness, spread across Mr. Archer's face. I guess he's happy to finally get a good mentor, so he won't have to help keep these poor kids alive. Ladies are always first, so he gingerly sticks his hand in the bowl, and grabs a strip at random. He walks over to the microphone, and begins the name, Colleen Reyna. Whew, not me, and I am greatful, I wouldn't be able to take it. But I cant help but wonder about the teenage girl. She can't be more than 17, and when I see her brother run up to her, I see a silent tear fall down her cheek. I can't help but allow a tear to fall with the sight. A little boy, probably 7 has begun to speak in the microphone.

"Hi, I'm Dustin Reyna, but everyone calls me Dusty. I'm Lena's sister, and who are you?"

"Why Mr. Archer of course. Great to meet you, I introduce you all to our first set of tributes, Dusty and Colleen Reyna. May the odds be ever in their favor," He turns his attention from me and begins again with "now for the boys."

When he calls Whyle's name, I can't help but cry, and walk to the stage, meeting Whyle at the top. Afterwards, I zone out. And then, we are herded like cattle onto the train.


	8. The Freaks of District 3

**A/N: hey, so I'm going to try and update one other time before the weekend, because I won't be able to post over the weekend. I have a meet and I won't have much time for anything but training and well, the two-day completion. So I might not be able to post again until Monday or Tuesday. Hope you like the District 3 tributes. They are, uh let's just stay, different. **

Akelaine George

When my shift finally ends, Kox stops me in my steps. I let out a juvenile giggle at our closeness, and he surprisingly lifts me into a hug, wishing me luck at the reaping. Once I am freed, I blush, and it only makes him blush deeper. That boy has the demeanor of a teenage girl, but defiantly not the looks, no sire. As if his toned abs weren't his only blessing on a hot summer day, when the air is out and he is lugging the hefty cow carcasses around shirtless. He also was simply sculpted by the gods for lust and it helps tat he has been built with the strength of an ox. But there is more to Kox than his brawn, there is his lovely brains as well, and the personality that can melt a girl's heart in an instant. But I know h will never show anything but a brotherly interest in me, we are too far apart in age. One year or even two is okay, not too large of a gap, but three, that's a bit much.

I throw my long blond hair over my shoulder, and boldly rise to my tiptoes, planting a soft 'friendly' kiss on his cheek. He deepens to a cherry red shade on his cheeks, and I am off.

Once outside, the blush of boldness cuts a path across my face, and I race home, to prepare for the reaping.

No one lets me in when I knock, so I assume mom's hands are full with Calic, so I silently slip in through the den's window, and almost land in my father's lap. We share a half-hearted laugh that is abruptly stopped by Calic running into the room, screaming bloody murder and is almost entirely nude. I see my mother has only been able to wrestle him into boxers after his morning bath, so I take on the challenge.

I race around the house, slowly pulling his khaki pants, and finally, after several minutes of pleading, he puts on his soft red shirt. It took four cookies to get him into it however. I push him to a sitting position on the couch and my father manages to entertain his erratic jumping.

I cool off in a bath, cleaning the dirt and blood from the butcher shop out of my pores. It takes some time however to cool my mind enough to cool my body along with it. Still lounging in the tub, I dry my soft blond hair and comb it straight.

My soothing attempts to calm my edgy nerves are blown to bits however when I hear Calic once again taking up his banging. I slip quickly into my reaping outfit- a simple white (or at least that was the original color) button down shirt and tuck it into a slightly greying black skirt. I grab my flats and rush downstairs to chaos.

Rick Corr

I pass these two very arrogant girls on my way to the town square, some 30-minute stroll from our quaint home. I snare at them, they wouldn't be good enough for me anyways. But this other girl, a soft auburn head bobbing in the distance, she looks cute, so I quicken my pace to catch up to her, leaving my family in the dust. She becomes only more beautiful as I walk closer. With a final stride to match hers, I see it appears she has a halo crowning the top of her long auburn mane.

"Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven, cause you sure look like an angel to me." I start with that one, knowing it always gets a smile. But she isn't smiling; rather she keeps her eyes forward and acts as if she cannot see me. So, I try another, "Am I dead Angel? Cause this surely must be heaven." I smoothly pass along to her. She still doesn't her me. Little nuisance can't show a guy at least some respect? I give her one final chance to redeem herself with, "well, I thought an angel would have wings, but perhaps I was wrong." Nothing. No response, so I move on, a new girl coming p close from behind when I turn my shoulders to the side I can see her amazing face, and eyes to be lost in. I slow the pace and slip to her side.

I give her the customary eyebrow raise, a signature of sorts of mine. Then I start right on in, "Your eyes are so beautiful, I got lost on my way over here." She gives a glare towards me, so I try another. "Is your father a thief? Cause he stole the sparkle from the stars and put them in your eyes." All I get is a small slap on my hand, which I can respect. So I try one final attempt. "You know, I enjoy looking into your eyes as conversation, but I just had to see if your eyes are as great of conversationalists as your sweet lips." With that I get a large slap across the face, and the blue-eyed beaut is gone. Craig, Neil and Wiley have caught up to me now, and I see Craig is trying to hold back snickers of amusement; I let him burst with them. I feel kind today, since it's the reaping and all, I won't give the obligatory speech of how rude it is to poke fun at a young man yearning for the kindness of a soul on the other side of our brutal teenage warfare, battle of the sexes nonsense. When his snickers de out, we have arrived at the main square, ready for the reaping.

Calic George

At the square, I see all these people, people I don't know that give me these funny looks. I don't understand why they look at me with this sadness I feel pushing on my chest. I want to growl at them to stop their staring, but they do I anyways. Ha! I sent them a message with my eyes fixed right back at them! But then, I realize that they've turned around because some lady on stage is talking, I ignore her though. I see a butterfly flying solo in the sky about a foot above my head and I want to chase it, it's just so pretty. The red, my favorite color, stands out among the pale sky. But mommy pulls me back, so I thrash in her arms, willing her to release me. It is no use. Then, the lady calls my sister, and I feel jealous, what does she get that I don't? Mommy's grip has stopped entirely, her hands at her eyes, so I make a break for it, racing to beat my sister to the prize! And I win! The lady asks my name, which I state is Calic and asks what the prize is. They say "the hunger games of course!"

Akelaine has pulled me to stand with her, so I, for once, I let her hold me still, and bring my hand to my face, biting the ends of my fingers. I hope these hunger games are fun!

Craig Corr

The kid that's the girl's brother beats her to the stages, mightily happy to go in I suppose. The kid however has this strange looking face. I think it's some disorder or something, making his nose the centerpiece and it's even flattened, making a strange picture. His upper lip is disproportionately bigger than the lower and I wonder what's wrong with him, the kid is gnawing off his fingers practically even! The little monster looks lethal and he probably is only 7 at most.

When Ms. Danni Slender pulls the boy's name and reads it, I begin stepping forward, it is Rick. The idiotic flirt gets to go to his death, and I already know it will be me joining him, Wiley is too much of a wuss to go with him. The 'man' can't kill and spider, and is deathly afraid of practically everything. Rick is dragging me to my death. Oh no, the idiot is taking me down with him!


	9. The Twists To Come(gamemaker POV)

A/N: i know, short chapter and all, but it's an update nonetheless. I was super busy all weekend, that sunday night i was scrambling with my homework. But now, i should hopefully be able to update every other day, no promises however. My meet went great, our team placed first all around, and I got silver on bar and gold on floor. =D  
We have now received word from the districts of our tributes. The 48 tributes are of all shapes, sizes and varieties. Ranging from about 25 to 3 in age. This will be an interesting quell. A pattern has already emerged-twins, whether they be in the games together or have twins as siblings at home. Their biographies and backgrounds are diffidently unique. We have orphans, and foster kids, divorced families, and perfect families. We have dancers and intellects, traditional and untraditional careers. This mix won't be forgotten soon. And even better are the twists for an epic games. There will be sibling challenges, testing relationships as well as ability. There will be teams, picking the alliances that we want to see. My favorite will be the time limit. If there isn't a victor/s by the end of the 7th day, we will have a massive avalanche and snowstorm that will taking the remaining tributes down. A little harsh, but we want to keep it interesting. Even numbered days will bring challenges, odd days will bring distress and battles. I can only hope that Auntie will like our arena twists, because if not, we are headed to death. All i can do, is pray.


	10. AUTHOR'S NOTE!

**You probably thought this was a chapter, sorry, I hope to have the next reaping up tomorrow night. Bacon is life. But first, I am so sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I have been unseasonably busy as our state champion meet is this weekend and Acro season just started; I have been buried in training. **

**(I am a training freak, and am addicted. I have like, zero free time for my amazing brother JB, that is editing this.) And thus, unfortunately I just haven't had the time to login onto the computer. I am sorry I abandoned you all, my faithful readers. But I am hoping to have everything calm down some between state and nationals, so fear not; I shall get more chapters out soon enough! (Seriously dude or dudette, don't flip out on AC, they only is human you know?) I am three sets of tributes away from being completely done with collecting tributes, feel free to send in another set of tributes, I think it'd be cool to have a district full of siblings in the same family, just putting that idea out there *****wink, wink*****. (Oh, that's a player move right their, mummhuh.) I need some inspiration, and would love if one of you, my readers wants to be my editor of sorts. (I have had to resort to having JB the amazing edit my chapters) I need someone who can help me when my imagination is in the toilet (that's potty talk, jeez, seriously AC), and someone that can proofread stuff, as I have a tendency to ramble (you're doing that now AC), and with the end of school approaching, and nationals at the beginning of May (oh crap, I forgot how soon it is, good luck AC, you got it) and Acro season just beginning, my writing is bound to suffer. (I think it may already have some, AC, you've got rambling issues). Anyways, PM me if you have the free time to be my editor and there are benefits: **

**1. Edit and know what's to come in the story. (Ohm, that sounds fun {sarcastically giggles}) 2. Cannot give out spoilers, not matter how much you want to. (That ain't gonad be no fun for them AC!) 3. You'll have a new (slightly neurotic) friend! (I wonder why AC's neurotic) 4. You can help with ideas for the plot. (I vote something laughable you guys!) 5. You can read some of my non-fan fiction stories, if you want, cause I have to write a book in my writing class, and need help if you want to help. It's about a girl being abducted. (nobody got time for that AC!)**

**NOW, that's probably the longest author's note I have ever written, and I hope you actually read it. (I only read it cause AC made me!) I hope to have the next actual chapter up by like tomorrow night, but like I said, (I HAVE AN INSANE COACH THAT DOESN'T WANT ME TO HAVE ANY KIND OF LIFE UNTIL AFTER NATIONALS, NO MATTER IF IT'S COMPUTER FRIENDS OR ACTUAL FRIENDS.) If they aren't on the team, Yuri doesn't agree. (My coach is pretty damn neurotic {sort of like me, but not.})**

**JUST A QUICK FYI, I LET MY 10 YEAR OLD, SARCASTIC, YOUNGER BROTHER JB EDIT THIS WITHOUT LOOKING AT IT AGAIN, SO I HOPE HE DIDN'T FREAK YOU OUT OR ANYTHING.**


	11. The Secret of District 9

**A/N: i am so so so sorry that it's been sooo long since i updated, i had regional one weekend, then state the next, then an acro meet the following weekend. that and we had to read an 800 page novel in my english class which sucked. also in this past while i got grounded from the computer for my not too great of grades, not my fault the teacher lost like 4 of my papers and penalized ME for it. i hate that crazy teacher. anywho, enough of my rant, please enjoy the district 9 reapings. oh, and again, sorry! **

Brogan Dagas

Sweat drips down my face and onto the floor but I keep going. I can't help but want more for my dancing but yet my body doesn't give any more. Rehearsals for fall show have already begun and I worry I won't be prepared for the lead role. Madame Langdon says I will most certainly have the lead but I don't agree. Damian Franco has a better chance at the lead because he is stronger and faster, more eye appealing with the favorite Arden Jesllyn- for the female lead role. Most importantly however I worry he's better at dancing and performing in general. But I keep my head held high in class. I keep my eyes focused in my pointe as I turn through the piqué pirouettes. When my last pas de chat has a good three feet higher extension compared to Damian's I think of it as a sign of grace.

After class I walk out with Damian joking around. Even in the spirit of competitive dancing vying for the best rolls and the same spots, Damian and me are still the best of friends. Being the only two serious boy dancers in our year Damian and I take all the lead roles but still fight for the best. We both want to get into the company in the capitol but the capitol is unpredictable. So every day we fight to have the larger leap, the longer extension and to be the better one.

Dancing is a world made for only a few. The grace it takes hides the fact that no matter how high your jump is or how long your extension reaches, not everyone lands. But Damian and me don't worry about the competition outside of the studio. We joke around like regular teenage boys laughing at the girls crying about the rain but still I have this weird feeling with Damian. I know he's gay; he came out of the closet two years ago. His parents support that he likes boys. He hasn't had a boyfriend yet but I know it's soon to come. After all, our hormones are supposed to be raging at this age. I haven't told him yet but I think I'm gay too. Whenever I'm around him there's this feeling of flurries going around in my stomach like it can't take the nerves that pulsate through me whenever he's in the same room. That and I've never really liked girls. But I keep quiet on our walk home. I say goodbye like on any other day, even though it isn't like any normal day. Today is the reaping. I'm prepared for the worst but I hope for the best. And after a shower filled with long strains of thinking I'm ready to face my fears.

Sephora Winterson

At breakfast this morning dad is sitting hand-in-hand with Stella our evil stepmom. I feel like I live in a Cinderella story but I have one stepsister rather than two and my dad is still alive. The evil stepmother works however. I've come to realize that Stella is an evil stepmother but Addie isn't an evil stepsister. She is just a little girl stuck with a horrible mom and we can't really change that now can we? I get the feeling that Stella detests Addie. The poor girl only ever gets grief from her mom. I've always wondered why she puts up with Stella, the lady is a true b****.

But Addie doesn't annoy me nearly as much as her ridiculous mother. Each morning Stella's tactics make me want to puke up my breakfast but I remain calm for father's sake because he's been there for everything and he does everything for us even if Stella is a psychopath with anger issues. I see that Azure and Addie are already up and dressed. They are talking quietly among each other. I see that Stella has bought Addie and Azure matching dresses. Even though they're the same age they're not twins so I want to scream that they don't need to dress the same. Even if they were twins, I would find a reason to scream at Stella cause she's just frustrating. Stella has given them these white bubbly, puffy dresses with Azure having a bright blue cardigan wrapped around her shoulders. And Addie's is just the same but with a very vibrant golden yellow that is very blinding. I am disgusted by the sheer timeliness of it all. I don't want Azure's identity intermingled with Addie. Azure already has to fight for father's attention; she doesn't need any more competition. But I bite down my tongue as I walk in. I know the fight that will ensue isn't worth it on this already tense morning. I look down to my choice of dress instead.

I had decided on much less flamboyant attire. My favorite color being turquoise I picked this turquoise dress with these beads that run down the top in a swirly pattern. It's breathtaking in the sunlight, and all the beads capture the light in the right way. But I can already tell that Stella doesn't like my dress once I stepped into the kitchen. She gives these still staring eyes that won't give up on my face. I flash my tongue at her face and take my seat at the table. But I already know I'm going to pay.

Bennett Dagas

When I heard Brogan climb from the depths of our bathroom, I finally claw my way from my bed. I gave Brogan first chance when he returned from the dance studio this morning. He came in, his white t-shirt thoroughly soaked, and his milky brown hair collected in clumps around his head. It seemed like a better choice for him to go first. Besides, I'm dreading today, it's my last reaping, but it's also Logan's first. These past years I have only been able to tolerate having Brogan in the reaping with me because I always knew deep down, if it came to it, I'd volunteer for him. But now, with Logan entering this year, and Kylie the following year, it's too difficult to think about. Even with Logan being a pain in the butt, I still love her. And even with Brogan and I's unspoken agreement of avoiding any subject practically, we have an unbreakable bond as brothers. I just hope that Brogan and Logan will be willing to protect Oakley and Kylie if it comes to it.

Brogan appears in the bathroom door as I get up for my chance at it. It's hysterical how Brogan's hair is stuck up in every direction but down, and I can't hold in bursts of laughter. He gives me a quizzical look, and all I can muster is a point at his hair. Soon, he joins me in the bellyaching laughter that is his hair. I push his hair down some as I myself go into the bathroom for a shower.

A good fifteen minutes later, the bathroom is excreting steam as I prop the door open to air the place out. The best part is that when I emerge, Brogan has combed his hair to all go straight up. I stealthily walk up behind him, and give his locks of damp hair a rubbing. This leads him to promptly snap his towel in my direction, and for me to jump towards my side of the closet with my dress clothes. I shrug into some loose trousers- tan- and pull a soft green cardigan over my bony frame. Brogan is still playing with his hair as he stands in front one the mirror. I already know I'm going to miss him when I leave for the capitol next month.

Azure Winterson

At the square, Sephora gives my hand a squeeze as I head to the 12 year old section and am bombarded with all my friends. I see Addie standing awkwardly off to the side. I wave her over, but the shrill voice of our escort- Aimee Vanillaizer- cuts through the air and we are stopped in our tracks.

"Sephora Winterson."

Sephora Winterson . . .

Sephora Winterson . . .

"Sephora!" wait, what? Her sister was chosen for the Games! What would she ever do without Sephora to talk with all night long and share secrets with! Who else-

wait? It is not just Sephora who would be going into the Games. I was going to die too.

My eyes had been tearing the whole time, and now those tears began to spill over. Our Dad would have no one left. He would be left with just prissy, demanding Stella and "perfect" little Addie for company. And I am not a killer. I once fainted at the sight of blood. Granted, I was seven at the time and I'd matured a lot since then but I was still terrified of it!

And her poor sister! I already knew Sephora would be feeling guilty now that I would have to go to the Hunger Games too; I knew my sister very well.

I did not bother to try and stop my screams and cries, nor did I even bring a hand up to stop her tears from falling. My knees were shaking heavily, I she managed to make it to the stage, and as soon as I made it up there, I ran straight into Sephora's arms, wishing this could all be a horrible nightmare.


End file.
